


Violet

by gamesgeary_18



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamesgeary_18/pseuds/gamesgeary_18
Summary: He could forget himself. But...





	Violet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 3am thing. I need to get up at 6 and catch a bus but I need to write more. NEED. I just had to and this might be craptacular but atleast I wrote something. God, its been ages! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron, just this madness.

There is an  _ache_ in his chest. 

 

Like something is pushing down on his lungs, like death is pushing,  _shoving_ , slipping into the cracks of his armour. He's falling and falling and the chasm is too deep. So deep he can't see where it ends. 

 

_When will he hit the ground?_

 

It  _hurts_ to breathe, so much. There is so much  _red_ on his hands, blossoming bright against the white. He can feel it dripping through the gaps in his fingers, hitting the cold floor, sizzling heat pooling at his feet. The heat  _burns_ his skin. Still vein warm and he wants to gather it up and hold it together like that would absolve him of this-  _guilt-_ that is sitting on his shoulders. 

 

That guilt is a dark thing, hunched over his head, its boney fingers running through his hair, cradling his face. The touch burns and his eyes water and he needs to just  _stop._

 

_He needs it to stop._

 

The skeleton runs a single digit down his throat, hunching over so much its spine  _cracks_ in half and it hangs in front of his eyes with a dead smile. The digits burn into his skin, sizzling and hissing and sinks into his chest. And it should hurt. 

 

_Why doesn't it hurt?_

 

The bones withdraw and out it pulls the decayed remains of what was once his heart. Blackened and crumbling like dust. The knees around his ears tighten and the eyeless face smiles and toothless smile. Its jaw rolls open and moves. 

 

_"Shiro?"_

 

And he  _knows_ that voice. He knows it because it echoed in his cell walls. It bounced off the metal walls and slipped through the bars and sifted through his hair like gentle fingers pressing against his scalp, like blunt nails scrapping against the base of his skull. 

 

The same low husk that snuck out of the deepest corners of his mind and filled his senses with a violet so vivid so perfect, his bleeding lips stretched and even though it hurt his dry swollen tongue and his parched throat, his voice resounded through the cell. That single syllable. That soft click of the tongue, the fumbled throaty start and the breathy end. Yes, the one thing that he kept close. 

 

He could forget himself. But...

 

_"Shiro"_

 

The skeleton cups his hand around his face, the hands burn into his flesh and the sweet smell of burning flesh fills his lungs. The blackened corpse, upside down, hisses at him. He has lived with this beast for so long and yet it hisses at him. 

 

_"Shiro?"_

 

The hands are warm now, and gentle. Cradling rather than clawing. The burning sweetness slow to register. Its a familiar scent, it is stars in a cloudless sky. It is the wind in his face and the sand in his hair. It is a tinkling laughter and the crinkling of eyes and the colour violet. The colour violet. 

 

_He wants to touch it ._

 

_"Come back to me, Takashi"_

 

The heat against his knuckles is shaky, warm. His whole left hand is encapsulated in this heat. This  _burning heat._

 

_But it burns so good_ . 

 

He wants more of it. So much more. He wants, so he opens his cracked lips and his throat hurts, shudders and the same word leaves his lips. Its a prayer now, a chant, an  _anchor_ .

 

_"Hey, I'm right here."_

 

Its that voice so close to him, the creature on his shoulders shakes and rattles its naked boney wings, the digits hook into his shoulders, the legs pull back and the clawed toes push into his spine, digging and gouging out some more of him to take away. It leans in and he can feel the icy breath against his ear as it whispers to him. 

 

_You can't fight me, Champion. You have red on you._

 

And it pushes away and the cold leaves him like a punch to the gut. And now its violet. Everything is violet. He blinks away the tears and the colours dance,  _blinding_ him. He reaches for the violet and his fingertips touch something equal parts soft and hard. The violet shimmers and drips. Hot against the roughened scar on his face, down his nose and past his cheekbone slipping, now cool, down his ear, wetting the rough buzz of his neck. Violet crinkles into crescents and pearly teeth pull into a broken smile. And his lips part, his voice is broken and he is broken but he is home.

 

_His world is Violet._

 

"Keith..."

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case there is any confusion, this is set post Garrison rescue and before the "Good to have you back" scene.


End file.
